


Two assholes in a chair

by Halebop



Category: Knives Out (2019)
Genre: Allan Thrombley was bi, Fucking a suspect, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mention Of Homophobia, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Poor Professional Etiquette, Safe Sane and Consensual, but like... really in passing, listen this... this is porn, the two dudes are gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:13:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24390382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Halebop/pseuds/Halebop
Summary: Ransom is used to having everything he wishes, just for fun. So when he wants the southern detective, he has not even a doubt that he will get what he want, in his own terms.Maybe he should have taken into account that the dude is as much as an asshole as him.
Relationships: Benoit Blanc/Ransom Drysdale
Kudos: 30





	Two assholes in a chair

Ransom Drysdale locks the door behind himself. The study of his grandfather is still the creepiest, ugliest thing in the whole house, which is saying a lot, since his family is also in said house. There are countless statues and figures and masks with their distorted eyes and grins, and the puppets, god, the puppets are the worst. And knowing the old man, that bastard probably had a clause in his will that prevented anyone from removing these horrible gremlins from the walls. Fortunately, there is a way more pleasant view in the centre of the room, leaned over papers and notebooks and whatnot : The Private Detective Benoit Blanc, and his amazing booty. Oh, Ransom was gonna make it his own.

\- New development, "Private Detective"? he asks with a special, almost derogatory emphasis on the title.

He slides his hands in his jeans pockets as the man turns and nods. God, his sleeves are rolled up and his forearms are tanned. Perfect.

\- Ransom Drysdale, Blanc salutes with his stupid accent and god Ransom wants to make him scream his name. May I help you ?

\- Oh, I'm sure you may.

Blanc smiles politely as he crosses his arms. The shirt on his shoulders is so stretched it might give up anytime, and Ransom is here for it. He licks his lips. To busy himself, he walks to the desk and rumbles through the papers, more to annoy the man than anything else. Only when Blanc closes a notebook before he gets the chance to touch it does Ransom looks up, at Blanc's polite-yet-amused smile.

\- Do you have new information about your grandfather, that may be... relevant to the case ?

\- Oh, I have info about him that no one in my family will tell you, despite all of them knowing it perfectly well ! Ransom assures, eyebrows up.

He let himself fall in the big leather chair next to the knife circle, legs spread wide and body resting heavenly against the comfortable back. Elbows on the armrests, he lightly scratches his chin, looking the detective up and down with a smirk, before talking.

\- We were close, he starts. Closer than with any of these blood sucking leeches that I call my relatives. See, "Mister Blanc", we both... liked the other team. That's it, Detective, I am a bugger! (he raises his hands in admission with a big smile). A bent, a pervert, a flit, a faggot, a shirt lifter, pick your favourite ! I know my aunts and uncles each have their own. They like to pretend I never said anything, but oooh boy, I told them a lot. In great details too. You should have seen my mother's face, just for that it was worth it ! They all cut me from their will, of course.

Blanc was looking at him with his arms crossed, eyebrow raised. He's now half sitting on the desk and everyone in the house would hate that this commoner's ass was tainting the old wood of this priceless furniture. Ransom loves it.

\- All but one. Old Harlan told me to come to his office, he asked me if it was true, then there was this light in his eyes as he pulled out an old notebook from a drawer. You know me, I think books are for old boring farts, but he insisted. Well, I shit you not : it was a diary of his gay, veeery homosexual younger years, with more details in it that I could ever give Walt before his heart exploded; and there were pictures! Oh, it was awesome. Harlan was generous and nice and whatever, but don't think for one second that he was a saint. How he managed to have three children with my grandma with what was written on there, I have no idea.

The detective had barely moved, just cocking his head and raising his eyebrows a little more, but Ransom knows it. He has caught this fly in his web.

\- He basically told me I could always count on him. Just for being my gay self, can you believe?

\- That is all very interestin', mister Ransom, but why are you tellin’ me that ? If your grandfather did indeed threaten to cut you off from his will, that would...

\- I told you all this because I know you, Blanc, Ransom cuts him while getting out of his chair. I know your looks, I know your kind, and I know your eyes follow me when I take off my jacket.

He puts his hands on the desk on either side of Blanc, trapping him, slowly leaning toward his.

\- I know you're into dudes, Detective, Ransom says, licking his lips. As much as me and old grandad. And I know you're into me.

Blanc seems amused. He looks at Ransom's chest, then back up, and there is something of a teacher entertaining a child in his voice when he talks:

\- You locked the door when you entered, you spread your legs when you sat and you have looked at my naked forearms nineteen time in the last ten minutes. I could ask you what you wanted, but I'm pretty sure you have a strong idea already.

\- Oh, isn't he a clever boy, Ransom smiles, straightening his back before walking backward into his chair and letting himself fall on it. Well, I think you know what I want too, in that case.

\- It would be highly unethical, Blanc notes, taking of his tie.

\- Oh, completely, Ransom gravely agrees.

\- And it would probably make your family hate me a little more, Blanc adds, folding said tie and putting it down on the desk

\- Oh please, like you care about that.

\- So, what ? Want me to fuck you on your grandpa's office ?

\- My coat is worth more than what you do in a year, please. I'll do the fucking, thank you very much.

Blanc slides his hand into his pockets with a pensive pout. He looks Ransom up and down, always with that god-damn amused look in his eyes, and finally he stands up from the desk and walks toward the tea cabinet.

\- Uh, he says absently, taking a cup and a plate from the shelves, and a water carafe from the table. So you think that because you're richer than me, I should submit to your... wishes ?

\- Well... obviously, Ransom shrugs.

What kind of question is that? And more importantly : Are they gonna do this, yes or no ?

\- Interestin’, Blanc notes, still doing his weird stuff. Tell you what, if you're so sure of that, why don't we play a game, hm ?

\- Sure, why not.

\- Then hold this for me, would you ?

He gives Ransom the tea plate he was fondling with, on which is now sitting the teacup, full to the brim with water. Ransom lifts an eyebrow but take it.

\- Please hold that up, don't put it down on that leather, Blanc notes, undoing the buttons of his collar. I'll do as you say, but as soon as you spill water I'll stop. Deal ?

\- Yeah, whatever you say, Ransom huffs, lifting the plate. Just get here quickly.

Blanc let out a chuckle, that bastard, but he gracefully gets on his knees between Ransom's legs. Finally. His strong hands make their way up Ransom's thighs, tranquil, until they reach the fly of his very expensive jeans. Ransoms looks down on him with a smirk. Oh, he wanted that for a long time. Since he saw that detective standing in the hallway of the old man's house, in fact. The hands get his erection out, good lord, the guy is really going to do this. The detective licks his lips, looks right into Ransom's eyes and then, from base to tip, licks the entirely of his underside. Fuck, the man is good. Ransom sucks in a breath and Blanc fucking smiles, but finally he gets his mouth to good use and swallows him whole.

Fuck. The man is very good. There's suction, there's warmth, there's the delicious friction of the tongue on the side, Blanc knows how to do his stuff. He straightens, letting the dick almost entirely exit his mouth, the office's temperature seeming almost cold on his saliva-soaked cock after the hotness of the mouth, but then Blanc goes down again, and the maddening greatness comes back.

\- I've had worse blowjobs, Ransom breaths out.

Blanc's lips encircle him on their way up, strong and perfect, and he let go of the dick with a wet sound.

\- Glad to know it, he nods before going back on his job.

And fuck, Ransom might keep him like this forever. He's hot, he's good, his hands are massaging his thighs and rubbing his balls, occasionally pulling the jeans down to have better access. His hands are nice, very nice. But the mouth, god, the mouth is great. Slow and applied at first, it soon becomes apparent that Blanc doesn't need to pace himself to hit the right spot at each passage; he's gaining speed, yet he's still tight, precise, perfect, alternating between licking the tip and sheathing him whole, and Ransom is more than breathing hard right now. He's pretty sure he moaned once or twice already, but Blanc is still here, doing all this, and his hands are still kneading and pushing and grabbing ; when he feels a push against his hole, Ransom doesn't even think about protesting, he's just savour all the way his body is enjoying the treatment. Blanc bobs in and out more quickly now, quicker, Ransom feels himself getting lost, he trembles and...

And Blanc stops. And looks up.

\- Ah, I felt some drops, there, he notes, voice not even hoarse.

Ransom wants to ask what the fuck he's talking about but his head is still spinning a little. Blanc was sure to come back to finish him, he won't let him like this, he's...

But no, Blanc is getting back on his feet, stretching and shaking his legs. He's even un-rolling his god damn sleeves!

\- Hey, Detective, I don't know if you missed the clue but you're not done here ! he shouts as if Blanc was stupid, because honestly, he must be.

\- I think you mean that you're not done here, Blanc points out .

That smartass! The nerves, the outrage, to do this to him ? He's Hugh Ransom Drysdale, not some commoner that can be left with a painfully hard cock !

\- Blanc, come back here you asshole !

\- I can't, Blanc says while buttoning back his sleeves. You spilled some water. From the cup.

Ransom looks back at the plate he's been holding. He completely forgot it.

\- So what ? I forgot your stupid cup with what you were doing with your mouth, mouth which is very much not working right now !

\- Ah, but those were my terms. You spilled water, I stopped.

Blanc has a stupid smug smile on when he put his hands back in his pockets. Oh, he thinks he's clever ? Ransom puts the cup on the floor and tries to use his hand to rub himself. After Blanc's mouth, it's the worst, the literal worst. He can't finish like that any more !

\- Come on, you prat ! I'm sorry about your stupid water ! Is that what you want to hear?

Blanc just smiles and leans back on the desk. He seems to enjoy that torture way too much. He scratches his nose, shifts position, looks at some papers, before looking back to Ransom, still trying to chase away the frustration.

\- Oh, I'm sorry, you wanted somethin’? I must not have heard the magic word.

\- Are you serious ? Ransom sighs like it's the stupidest idea ever.

\- Oh, very much so. How much do you miss me? Are you ready to ask ? (he leans forward a little, a smirk forming on his lips.) To beg ?

\- Blanc, this isn't a stupid game ! Ransom shouts, before lowering his voice again. You're gonna come back here yes or no ?

\- Oh, yes, definetly yes, Blanc assures. Once I like how you ask it.

\- You fucking-... you...

Blanc starts looking up, admiring the statues and the books in the library. That absolute bastard. Ransom cannot go on like this; his hands are too rough, putting either too much pressure or not enough, and they aren't warm, fuck, they clearly aren't hot and wet and everything that that mouth is. He gives up on them, and instead, holds his armrests tight.

\- Come back here ! he orders again.

Blanc completely ignores him, instead opting to inspect a statue of a deer standing on the desk. He cannot let him like this! He has needs! He needs... he needs the mouth and the hands and he needs Blanc to be between his legs again...

\- Blanc, come here ! he asks again.

He hates how his voice is less imposing than the last time. His erection throbs, neglected... even his asshole misses the contact, the light stretch... he cannot... He cannot finish like this...

\- Blanc, please ! he finally gives up.

He was going for a fed-up tone, and even if the words came a bit broken, he's sure he made his point. Blanc finally looks back at him, and Ransom could slap that fucking amused smile right off his face if he wasn't so horny right now.

\- See, was that so hard? the detective asks, smiling.

Ransom fucking hates him. He hates him and he hates his slow pace, he hates his stupid sleeves and he hates the time he takes to kneel. But when the mouth is back on him, fuck, everything was worth it. The suction the impossible hotness, it is all ten time more than what Ransom remembered mere minutes ago, and it is amazing. He wants to pass his hand on the back of Blanc's head to impose a god rhythm but the detective grabs his hands and pins them to the armrests; and then he licks the slit of his tip, slow and precise and perfect, and Ransom has no choice but to grab these armrests not to moan out of consciousness. Every nerve in his cock is electric, it's perfect, amazing, and Blanc's hands are back everywhere, on his thighs and on his ass and circling his hole and Ransom just needs them, need the tongue that is moving along his shaft, needs the back of that throat that is taking him so so deep... His moans are not begging, of course, he would never do that, and if they happened to be just a litany of "please please please please please", that was pure coincidence; but fuck, he would be in his right to do so... that mouth is god-like... It's amazing and perfect and just, just enough of everything... and the fingers, circling and pushing and entering him... His head falls backward and all his muscles tense as he comes, hard, harder than he has in a very long time. It feels like he's never going to stop, and yet the other man swallows him, swallows everything, how can he be real, it's... it's amazing...

He falls into his chair, breathing heavily. He might take that route out of consciousness, after all. Between his legs, in front of his expensive, pulled-off jeans, Blanc smiles as he wipes the corner of his mouth with his thumb.

\- You're okay there ? he asks, getting back on his feet.

Ransom nods vaguely and he sees Blanc bringing him a napkin from the tea cabinet. His pants are tenting but Ransom really can't bring himself to care right now.

\- Here, take this, Blanc insist. You may also want to think of a cover story, when people ask you what all this noise was about.

\- You're the noisy one, Ransom weakly answer, still trying to understand his orgasm.

He still grabs the napkins and try to clean himself. What did the guy do to him ? It wasn't just a blowjob; it was a religious experience. And more than the blowjobs4... it was the fingers that tipped him over the edge. He liked that Detective Blanc had fucked him. That this stupid, suave commoner man fucked him, Ransom Drysdale. Well, that wasn't true, he barely entered him. But if he was this good with his mouth, there was so telling what his southern dick could do. The simple though made something warm and electric pool up in his stomach and in his dick. Fuck.

He wanted Detective Blanc to fuck him.

That was a first.

\- Actually, Blanc notes, you might want to pull up your jeans now because I'm pretty sure one of your relative will try to open this door in about two minutes.

\- That might do them good at all those stuck up, Ransom smirks, buttoning up his jeans and letting his cardigan fall on them just to be sure. I hope it's aunt Joni. That would really show her.

Blanc smiles and lets Ransom walk toward the door. Damn, he will need time to think about all that. His orgasm had really been stronger than anything he remembered... Just when he’s about to reach the door, the doorknob rattles.

-Detective? Joni Thrombey's voice calls. Are you in there? Are you planning on staying for dinner, because we need to know how many we will be, and...

\- I'm in luck, Ransom noted at the attention of Blanc, before opening the door wide. Auntie Joni ! I had no way of knowing you were there from your high pitched screams alone !

Ignoring Joni's shocked stupor, he turns back to the detective, who may be trying to hide the bulge in his pants but certainty wasn't even trying to hide his grin. He was as much as an asshole than Ransom, he was just better at hiding it. And Ransom loved that.

\- Thanks for the discussion, detective! he shouts. I hope we can continue it another time ! I would love to hear more about your past experience, you know. Tell you what, let's meet later tonight !

\- Maybe when the investigation is over, mister Drysdale, Blanc waves with still that amused smile on his face.

\- I hope before that, Ransom answers with a bow.

He grins at Joni and walks past her without deigning her an explanation. Damn, what a perfect day, he thought as he excited the manor.


End file.
